


The Evil Eye

by BodhiSeongBae



Category: Original Work
Genre: 31 Days Of Halloween, Alternate Universe - Horror, Bad Luck, Bad Parenting, Black Cats, Costumes, Demons, Evil, Fear of Death, Friday the 13th - Freeform, Ghosts, Halloween, Halloween Challenge, Halloween Gift Exchange, Happy halloween, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Isolation, Magic, Minor Original Character(s), October Prompt Challenge, Oops, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other, Past Character Death, Running Away, Scary, Short Story, Superstition, Teen Angst, Trick or Treating, Tricksters, Unhappy Ending, Vampires, Witches, etc etc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 17:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16246805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BodhiSeongBae/pseuds/BodhiSeongBae
Summary: A friendless, superstitious girl prepares for Halloween, the most haunted, most evil night of the year; without her only friend Pumpkin to help, this year it's entirely up to Cider to guard her home from the evil eye. Her mysterious past to open a gateway of hellish events and a streak of horrible bad luck ending with Cider's disappearance on the night of the living dead."Why would anyone ever be envious of a girl born on the 31st of October, a girl named Cider October Webb?"





	The Evil Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Yooooo kidssss, I wrote this during my junior year of high school within a span of thirty-minutes, and I haven't edited it since then so if the writing is childish I apologize, but i'm too busy to edit it in time for this year's Halloween!  
> ENjoyyyyy, and if you liked a little please leave a kudos, comment or bookmark!

The Evil Eye

 

It was my birthday. October 31st, to be exact. That’s important, because October 31st is Halloween. Night of the Living Dead, so to speak. That isn’t important. Halloween is Halloween. Either way, I feared the fact that I was born on one of the most superstitious days of the entire year. How can I _not_ be superstitious? How can I not hate black cats and ladders and spider webs and Cider Webb?

Luckily, this year all these corresponding events were on a Saturday. A weekend. That gave me plenty of time to build a barricade. The six kids surrounding our neighborhood already knew they would not receive any sort of response if they were to wander over to our front door on Halloween night. I didn’t have to worry about them. I mentally placed them at the bottom of my list and decided to get out of bed, taking careful precautions. I made sure to take a pill, ensuring that I would sleep until at least noon. With half the day gone, I would only have to endure a few hours of anxiety.

 _Mom and Dad are gone. They won’t interrupt my “decorating,” and I can sit in my basement all day without being nagged at_ , I thought, feeling a small amount of success. _“Cider October Webb, nothing is going to happen. Go outside and have fun with your friends.”_ No thanks, I would say; my, as they call, obsession, with October 31 st has scared off any potential people who might want to be friends with me. I don’t care. I have other things to be worrying about. Friends would only increase the chance that something horrible will happen to me. They’d be jerks. Trying to manipulate me into going outside, just so they can play a prank, thinking I won’t react in self-defense. It’s lucky I have no friends. I’d be more of a danger to them than they would to me.

So, the late afternoon was spent in agony; jumping at every noise heard, stopping dead in my tracks whenever the washing machine would go on, etc. etc. But, as always, I managed to overcome all this scrutiny and get the supplies I needed for protection. I reviewed them, just to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. A horseshoe, pointing down, to keep witches away, holy water for demonic spirits, salt in my pocket to ward away ghosts, turn one pocket inside out to avoid owls eating my soul, various amulets for different uses—I have it all, and I _need_ it all. I know that you never turn around after hearing footsteps behind you; the dead will take you if you give into this curiosity. Never look at your shadow from the moonlight; if you ignore that rule, your death will arrive soon. Lighting candles is just asking for trouble; if a single one of those goes out, beware: malevolent spirits are coming.

I know every possible way to rid my home and my soul of any deceiving, wicked creature out there. I bought a brass bell last year, for ghosts. I know if I walk around them nine times, they’ll leave me alone. I’ve spent over $200 on charms, cleansings, artifacts, silver bullets, and books on how to keep evil away. But even after the fact, I still never feel…one-hundred percent safe.

 

And I guess there’s a reason for that.

 

I made sure our ladder was in the underground cellar, lying on the ground underneath a heavy box, so that I could get that image out of my mind. I wasn’t about to die because of one of the silly superstitions of Halloween night. As I covered the curtains with a thick black sheet, I heard the neighbor’s cat rustling around outside. _I hate that cat_ , I thought darkly. Of course, it’s a black cat, one of the worst omens on Halloween you can ever receive. I’ve had numerous attempts towards getting rid of the stupid thing, but have found little success. _Maybe this year I’ll get lucky. Maybe this year someone will accidently kill it and earn seven years of bad luck._

Amidst my hopeful fantasies, I guarded myself, and the house, as well as I could. It took me all day, and by the time I finished, it was dark out. The protection gets better every year, but I can never fully rid my mind of that feeling. That alarming feeling I always get around this time. There always seems to be someone laughing at me. Which is why you have to check _everything_. If you miss one single thing—it’s your neck.

 

 _The door has six locks, all locked. There’s a line of ash in front of it, just in case. Vampires, you have their symptoms memorized. The windows are closed, locked, booby-trapped in case of serious break-in attempts. There’s bread in case the ghosts get past the other obstacles. No candles are lit, no spirit portals are open inside the house. Don’t answer the door. Watch out for three knocks. Keep your thoughts clear and calm, don’t turn on any electronics. Read a book. You’ll be fine_ , I told myself as I was about to finish up barricading my bedroom door with the dresser.

 

That was when I heard the knocks.

 

My heart stopped for a moment, after hearing the second one. But thankfully, there was no third knock. Three is bad. Six is worse. I listened for a moment, having stopped my actions. No one spoke. I couldn’t glance out the window. All I could do was listen. Again; two knocks. Not a yell of “trick or treat.” Nothing but the knocks. They weren’t even vicious. They were just knocks. Against my wishes, I remembered something I did not want to remember, and hadn’t remembered for a long, long time: the only person who ever knocked twice was Pumpkin. She was my birthday buddy. But that was then. Pumpkin is gone. And so is her knock.

Furiously imaging that someone or something was taunting me, I sped down the stairs, quickly and silently. Our stairs lead right to the door, so I was face to face with the darkness immediately. _What should I do?_ I wondered, staring at the door. Everything was dark, except for the smallest amount of moonlight streaming in from the smallest part of a window the thick black sheet couldn’t reach. I could hardly see an inch in front of my face. But there was something strangely familiar about the presence behind the door…I knew it wouldn’t hurt me. Whether it was Pumpkin’s ghost or not. _Am I wrong?_ I wondered with disbelief.

I unlocked the first lock without thinking. I forced myself to stop and reflect. Ultimately, I kept going, with an internal struggle every time the latches clicked open. It was agonizing, but at the same time, intriguing. I had an image of Pumpkin, and I really did expect to see that image when I opened the door. But I was disappointed. After a long second, I pulled open the door. All the cold air of suspicion came rushing in at me.

There was no Pumpkin. There was something shiny in the middle of the road.

 

It was a penny. My worries quickly jolted away when I saw which side was up; heads. A heads-up penny. I couldn’t believe my luck. _It has to be Pumpkin_ , I told myself, heart starting up as if it had been electrically shocked. _Pumpkin’s giving me good luck on the worst day of the year. It has to be her!_

Before I ran out in the midst of the Halloween frenzy, I closed the door. Precautions. I was no idiot. But I was going to grab every chance I saw if it meant earning some more good luck. I ran up the stairs, distracted by thoughts of Pumpkin laughing at my worry, hurriedly grabbed my sunglasses and put them on; sunglasses would help me not look at my shadow. Running back down, I was hopeful. _With my amulets, I’ll be safe. It’ll only take a few seconds. I’ll be just fine._

I took a deep breath, then opened the door, closing it behind me. I even made sure it didn’t “magically” lock behind me.

 

To keep my eyes from drifting, I locked my stare on the penny. Swiftly, I scooped the good luck off the ground. _Thank you Pumpkin_ , I prayed happily, running my thumb over the copper. _Thank you_.

 

 _SCREEEEEEEECH_!!!

 

Within half a second, I peered just an inch over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of a car coming tearing down the street right towards me. There was only two seconds. I took those two seconds by the rails and launched myself onto the sidewalk, aiming behind where the car would just have passed. I landed hard, my sunglasses flew off; but the car missed, and continued to barrel away into the dark street. My hand was bleeding. But something worse, something much more sinister than bleeding on Halloween night in the middle of a dark street was about to happen.

 

As I looked down to where the penny had fallen, the moon outlined my shadow, not missing a single detail.

 

I let out a gasp and struggled to scurry back onto my feet. There was another shadow next to mine. I knew better than to look. Head down, I started to turn; but before I could take another step, I heard something that made me stop cold. Three footsteps. Behind me. It was the un-dead. And they were coming for me. Only me. The only soul available to claim. The only one who knew of their misdeeds.

The house was no longer safe. They would only follow me, and a spirit in your home never leaves. I did the last thing you ever want to do on Halloween: run.

 

I took off in the opposite way of the stupid car that had caused this whole mess. The footsteps kept following me. I could hear their chants. My shadow was probably only centimeters away from becoming part of theirs, but I wasn’t about to look behind me to know for sure. I kept running. It suddenly seemed that everything I had worked so hard against was overpowering me by attacking from all angles. Some fool had the audacity to set a mirror right where anyone could see it by looking through their window; my eyes, my stupid, panicked eyes, caught sight. I hoped I would see my future husband, as some myths say, in the reflection. No. I saw who was running behind me.

It was a herd of all things un-dead.

I know the neighborhood well, and I knew there would be a line of booths selling charms and fake-artifacts along Main Street; but to get to Main Street, I would have to turn around. Turning around meant never moving forward again. Turning around meant death. I didn’t turn around. I remembered someone else. A cheat if you ever saw one. An old lady who always put her booth on the outside of town. I couldn’t remember what she sold, but once I came up on her set-up, it hit me.

 

I had forgotten about the evil eye.

 

 _You stupid idiot!_ I screamed at myself, hearing the footsteps increase in volume. Her lights were on; candles, of course, but I took my chance, pushing through the curtain and emerging into the large tent where all the nazars, charms against the evil eye, were hanging by the hundreds. The footsteps stopped; this gave me no relief, as I was in the same presence inside as I was out. The old hag who ran the shop looked up from her strange circle of candles. “I see you’re in trouble.” She stated obviously. I grabbed the nearest nazar. “How much for this?” I asked. She kept staring at me, wasting precious time. I wanted to throw all my money at her and ditch, but I didn’t want to get ripped off. After a ten second silence, she answered, “$25.50.”

The charm was probably worth more than that, if it was made with care. I didn’t have time to think about it. The footsteps were gone, but I had to keep moving; there were plenty of dangers still left to find me. I threw a fifty at her without another word. It was safe to go back outside. Well— _safer_.

I had already seen my shadow, so I kept my head down to avoid seeing anything else. Everything had gone quiet. I couldn’t even hear kids running around or singing. As I ran about twenty feet away, I brought up the nazar to look at it; and that was when I saw a _Made in China_ sticker. The damn witch had sold me a fake charm. She sold me a _fake_ _charm_ that had _no_ _protective_ _glow_ around it _what-so-ever_. If anything, it brought me horrible luck because of this deceptive thought.

I bolted around, enraged. The old woman was already outside.

 

She was glaring at me. Glaring with all her heart and soul. Such a terrifying glare, that held envy, hatred, and repulsive feelings so heavy that I wondered if I had ever done something to wrong her. Her eyes were a dull, colorless blue. It made the gaze that much worse. I felt my heart stop beating. My entire body went cold to the touch. What could have caused this? What is so powerful, so ominous, so malevolent that it would place this upon another?

 

The evil eye.

 

I dropped the fake nazar and started running again. No charms, not even a real nazar, would be able to save my soul now. I was all I had left. And I’m only a soul in the body of a weightless creature. The attack on the frightened soul picked up where it left off.

As I ran, God knows where, spirits launched themselves from every angle, trying to find a weakness that would allow them to jump inside, take control of my body. Every step was another breath lost. Every moment I held my breath was another moment they tried very hard to take it away. I couldn’t see anything, as no one can on Halloween night.

A wave of fresh air struck my face; the spirits vanished, and I found myself falling over a hill, rolling harshly. I crashed into something hard. It toppled over as I finally came to a stop on top of it. Another part of me was bleeding. That pain quickly became the last thing I was worried about. I rolled off the solid object I had hit; after blinking a few times and praying that it wasn’t what I thought it was, I recognized the object as a gravestone. I had overturned a gravestone on the Night of the Living Dead. I created a new omen. A vile omen. One people would fear for all eternity.

What else could I do but try to run? I already knew I was a goner. Nobody defiles a headstone on Halloween and gets away with it. But I tried to. Maybe that was a mistake.

 

I, Cider Webb, scrambled onto my feet and tried to make a run for my life.

 

What I saw was worse than the un-dead. It was worse than demonic spirits. It was worse than witches or vampires or seven years of bad fortune. Why? Because it was the evil eye. A glimpse of the evil eye is worth the breakage of a million mirrors on Friday the 13th. One look, and your fate is sealed. Just as mine was.

I tried to turn away; but the evil eye is not to be hid from. You do not, and _cannot_ , look away from the evil eye. It follows where you lead.

An invisible force stopped me. I couldn’t move forward, left or right. The evil eye pushes you backwards, because that’s how it gets to you. It forces you back. But I tried to go right. I wanted to get back on the right track. I tried honestly, and broke loose once. Falling on the ground, I scratched the ground for grip. This was my last chance. A few feet and I could run again. My hope was crushed. The evil eye retook its hold; I glanced back, facing my downfall.

I let out one final cry; a cry that was too overwhelmed with fear that the high-pitched noise was hardly audible, but audible enough where if you heard, it would be like a pin being grazed a centimeter above your spine, from the very top, the very bottom. My lips remained apart.

 

My last thought? Why would anyone, _ever_ , be envious of a girl born on the 31st of October, a girl named Cider October Webb?

**Author's Note:**

> Happy hunting, Cider...


End file.
